06/09/2025
I started my little bird farm — just a few ducks, geese, and chickens — as a way to process all the emotional weight I’ve been carrying. The mess left behind from growing up in a home full of neglect, emotional pain, and abuse doesn’t just go away when you grow up.
This little flock became part of my healing. Every day I step into the coop or garden, it feels like I’m piecing something back together — even when everything else is falling apart. I’ve been using the farm, the birds, the soil, and the stillness of those evenings to work through the trauma I never had space to deal with.
I’m doing my best to build something meaningful — even though part of me knows I might not get to keep it forever. The truth is, the land and farm may not even stay mine. I fully expect the boys in the family to come for it when the time comes, because that’s how things tend to go. But I’m still pouring love into it while I can, because it’s what’s helping me survive — and show up for my child.
Right now, I’m working two jobs and still came up $200 short this week. The other parent isn’t following the agreed parenting plan or using the app we committed to, and that’s thrown everything into chaos. I’ve had to cancel shifts, scramble to cover childcare, and now I’m at risk of losing that care altogether — which threatens both jobs and everything I’ve managed to rebuild.
I’m not one to ask for help unless I absolutely have to. But this week, I do. If you’re able to contribute, share, or even just send some encouragement, I’ll carry it with me. Every bit counts, and so does every kind word.
Thank you for being here. Truly. ❤️
